


Vulcan Sands

by shiptoomuch



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Pre-Reform Vulcan, Royalty, Slavery, princess spock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiptoomuch/pseuds/shiptoomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where the Kir'Shara was never embraced, Vulcan never goes through full reform, and becomes an imperial force. Spock, the grand princess of the empire, believes in the teachings of Surak and hopes to lead her people to the ways of logic and peace. That is, until she encounters a criminal turned pleasure slave, and she must battle with her desire to be with the girl and to maintain her logic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Logical among the thoughtless, awake and aware among the sleeping, advance like a racehorse among aged and weakened beasts.”_

Spock is pulled from her reading by a knock on the door. She closes her well-worn tome carefully and places it under one of the many pillows in her large bed that goes unused. “Enter,” she says coolly, sitting up straight and composing her face and body in to the regal passiveness that is expected of her. 

T’Sera and T’Pol, her handmaidens, enter with heads slightly inclined. They do not look at her as they move to stand at the foot of her bed with folded hands behind their backs.

“I am ready to dress,” Spock says, their cue to finally look up and begin their tasks. T’Sera goes to the large wardrobe and pulls clothes for Spock while T’Pol comes to her side to assist her out of bed if needed. 

“Do you require any assistance, your highness?” T’Pol asks with quiet confidence. This is her job, which she has been doing for years for Spock. These routines are well practiced among them.

Spock shakes her head. “No, I am quite capable.” To demonstrate this, Spock pushes herself out of bed, her feet landing on a plush deep red carpet the same color as her sheets. “I will use the bathroom before I dress.”

The two handmaidens wait obediently in the bedchamber while Spock uses the bathroom. She emerges to find them examining her clothes for any flaws. There are none, of course. There is an entire team of laundry servants dedicated to ensuring the perfection of every article of clothing she wears, from her sleepwear to her formal dress. 

T’Pol and T’Sera undo the fastenings on her nightgown and let it slip to the floor. She stood in the room wearing only her satin underwear and a slight chill ran over her. T’Sera quickly solves this by assisting her in putting on her full black silk slip. It is her favorite, with spaghetti straps and a small bit of Vulcan lace where it ends at her shins. 

Her robes are her most casual, a deep red which was draped over her artfully to both enhance her slim figure and maintain some modicum of modesty. Her arms are bare, allowing her tattoos to be seen nearly completely. 

They finish dressing her efficiently, and guide Spock to sit in the chair in front of a large vanity mirror. T’Sera sets to work gently brushing through Spock’s waist-length hair carefully to remove any tangles while T’Pol applies a light amount of makeup to her face, ending with a perfectly sharp winged eyeliner.

Her hair is braided in parts and pinned but the majority of it is left to hang down her back. She is adorned with golden chains in her hair as well as golden chain earrings that reach from the tip of her ear to her earlobe, ending in golden pendants with hang down almost to her shoulders.

“Your father wishes to dine with you for his evening meal.” T’Sera says matter-of-factly. Spock nods.

“If he wishes it, it shall be so,” she says solemnly, “Are there any other duties I must attend to today?”

“Lady T’Pring has come to visit as well.”

Spock arches an eyebrow. “Is the purpose of her visit official?”

T’Sera shakes her head. “No, it is a social visit. If you do not wish to see her, however, we will send her away.”

Spock rises from her chair and walks toward the door of her bedchamber. “I will see her.”

 

T’Pring is wearing her usual silver robes and smiles when she sees Spock. “It is good to see you, your highness.”

“And you as well.” Spock says in return. T’Pring is one of her only friends from childhood, her family being longstanding members of the court and therefore allowing them to be raised together. They are rarely able to see each other quite so often anymore as T’Pring has taken her mother’s role of Sovereign Princess of Raal. 

Were Spock to choose her, she would be a fine choice for a wife and Princess consort. It is a thought that they have both considered and would likely go through were it not for T’Pring’s fondness for another. 

“I am to have Stonn.” T’Pring says as they walk through the sand gardens of the palace. Her face seems to shine with joy. “He is at last of marrying age and has agreed to bond with me.”

“You could have any which you desire,” Spock says thoughtfully, “Yet you choose to marry beneath you. You choose to marry one who could easily be deemed unworthy of your partnership.”

T’Pring shakes her head and smiles sadly at Spock. “You do not understand. I love Stonn and I must have him. I must.”

“Illogical.” Spock concludes finally. She clasps her hands in front of her and considers her friend’s choices. By all accounts they do not make sense. Stonn is below both of them in rank, only a duke in T’Pring’s land. He is not worthy of the love of one deemed so beautiful and worthy.

T’Pring interrupts Spock’s thoughts, “You rely too much on Syrranitic beliefs. They are unwise. You must embrace your emotions if you are to take your place as Empress one day. It is our way.”

Spock considers this. It has been the Vulcan way since Surak. His teachings were taken into account only marginally and used to create a far more civilized and militaristic culture. Vulcan united under this. Spock still cannot rid herself of the feeling that the teachings of Surak must be embraced in completion. “I am aware of the culture of my people.”

“I suggest you behave in a manner which is acceptable to them. You are dissatisfied because you do not take that which you desire, as is your right.”

“I grow tired of your didacticism,” Spock says sharply, “It is not your place.”

T’Pring falters in her steps a minute amount. She is unused to Spock asserting her title in such a manner. “Yes, my lady.”

They walk in companionable silence for the next short while. Spock takes the time to admire the beauty of her home world. The Palace overlooks a canyon that seems to stretch on forever and Spock considers one day exploring the land beyond. Just as always, she places the thought aside for future contemplation.

“Let us go inside,” T’Pring says after a short while, “I grow weary of the sand and rocks and the sun is likely to hurt my skin.”

Spock nods in acquiescence. She was likely to propose the same soon had T’Pring not done so first. “Come.”

The air inside of the palace is only marginally cooler than that of the outside, yet it is refreshing to Spock. She lets out an undetectable sigh. She heralds one of the servants and demands that he bring them libations in the grand parlor. 

“The entertainment which I brought should be brought in as well.” T’Pring instructs with a slight smile that speaks to her knowing something that she has not shared with Spock.

“Entertainment?”

T’Pring grasps Spock’s upper arm gently and guides her toward the room in question. “My arrival is not merely of a casual nature. I have brought your family a gift.”

Spock raises an eyebrow and allows herself to be guided into the grand parlor. The room is furnished mainly in the Vulcan Royal color of garnet red and a fire is roaring in the large fireplace at the front of the room. 

“Come, sit.” T’Pring says, gesturing to the large couch in front of the sofa, set back to allow room for any entertainment while guests and dignitaries are visiting. A servant enters the room with a tray of food. Iced sash-savas tea and delicate pastries are piled high in front of them. T’Pring picks one up and nibbles at it. She dismisses the servant with a wave of her hand.

It is always this way with T’Pring. She acts as though this is her own palace, a fact which should irritate Spock more. She allows her friend this behavior, though it does make her choice of Stonn as a bondmate all the more confusing.

Finally, T’Pring’s _gift_ is brought into the room by another of Spock’s servants. It is a human girl dressed in a bejeweled brassiere and a skirt made of sheer fabric with long slits up the side. 

She begins dancing in front of the fire. Spock suddenly finds that she cannot take her eyes off of her. He long blonde hair is tied up in a sleek ponytail and swings in a hypnotizing manner. Spock watches as her body undulates and gyrates smoothly.

“She was trained by our best Orion pleasure slaves.” T’Pring says casually. She watches the girl as well but with far more nonchalance than Spock does. She continues to eat her pastry.

Spock looks to T’Pring for a moment. “And she is-“

“A pleasure slave as well,” T’Pring concludes, “But she also is capable of typical handmaiden duties, if you do not wish her as a pleasure slave.”

“She is exotic,” Spock says slowly. She has once again become fixated on the movements of this girl who does not smile as she moves. “It is fascinating.”

T’Pring seems to almost have a smile in her voice as she speaks, “She is a criminal from Earth. She does have a penchant for attempting to run, but it should not be much issue for the royal family as there is nowhere for her to safely go out here.” She studies Spock closely with a smirk on her face. “You desire her.”

Spock flushes mint and looks down to her hands. It is not becoming of her to be so openly lusting after this slave, especially when she is known for being one to embrace logic. “Perhaps.”

“She belongs to you,” T’Pring says finally. “She is a gift to your family but I doubt that your father will deny you if you so desire to have her.”

Spock turns again to look at the slave, who is bold enough to be making eye contact with Spock as she dances. Spock intakes a sharp breath and finds she cannot look away.

 

“Spock.” Sarek greets warmly as she enters his private dining chambers. He holds his arms slightly away from his body, palms out.

Spock sinks into a deep curtsy. “My lord.”

“Rise, daughter.” Sarek pulls out a chair for her at the table and allows her to sit. It is against custom for anyone to be seated before the king, but in these private meals, it is something which Sarek insists upon.

Spock sits straight and folds her hands on her lap. “It is pleasing to see you, father.”

“And you as well.”

“Will mother not be joining us? I thought she was due back today,” Spock says in reference to her mother Lady Amanda, the ambassador to Earth. A human, though it is not widely known that Spock is of heritage that is not entirely Vulcan. The people believe Spock to be born of Sarek’s first wife, the Vulcan Princess Letaa. 

Sarek shakes his head with a fond smile. “No. Her plans have changed due to the negotiations taking longer than expected. Worry not, she will return soon,” Sarek finishes quickly upon seeing the slight concern on Spock’s face. 

“I look forward to her return.”

“As do we all.” Sarek concludes. He is hardly able to conceal the warmth in his voice when talking about his consort.

Sarek puts his fork down pointedly midway through the main course of the meal. He clasps his hands and looks over them at Spock. “Your thoughts are not with me, daughter.”

Spock replaces her own utensils and looks to her father sheepishly. She inclines her head. “My apologies.”

Sarek puts up a hand and shakes his head. “No apologies are needed. What troubles you?”

“T’Pring has brought us a gift,” Spock begins, “A pleasure slave from Earth.”

Sarek raises an eyebrow. “Is she not satisfactory?”

Spock shakes her head. There is a feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thinks about the girl that is not entirely unwelcome. “On the contrary, I wish to have her. I wish to be the only one to have her.”

Sarek studies Spock intensely before nodding once. “Very well. If you wish it, you shall have her. I shall have her sent to your quarters tonight.”

Spock nods gratefully and keeps her eyes on her father. Pleasure slaves are not uncommon among royalty but Spock had never before expressed interest in having one. Yet Sarek did not appear to show any surprise at her desire for the girl. 

Spock considers what she might do when the girl is sent to her that evening. She finds that she has no idea what will happen.

 

Spock dines with T’Pring on the verandah of her chambers that evening. They are overlooking the canyon as the sun sets and the air of the desert turns colder. A light breeze plays over the land and T’Pring shivers. “She is to be yours, then?”

Spock nods and takes a sip from her glass, filled with the Risian red wine she prefers. She closes her eyes at the taste, one of her many indulgences. “Yes. She is to come to my chambers tonight.”

T’Pring smiles and tips her glass toward Spock. “Good. It has been far too long since your affair with the Admiral. You have been…tense.”

Spock’s cheeks color at the mention of the Admiral. ‘Affair’ is likely the correct word to describe their entanglement, as it only lasted three weeks, but it makes Spock feel far dirtier than she would like. “Yes it will likely be…beneficial.”

T’Pring’s smirk grows and Spock’s ears grow hot. T’Pring takes one last sip of her wine and rises from her seat, her more formal dinner robes rustling softly as she does so. She stares out at the landscape and then back to Spock. “I should be on my way. I must leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Farewell, my friend.” Spock says, extending two fingers to T’Pring.

T’Pring’s fingers meet hers. “Farewell. Visit us soon.”

Spock remains on the verandah after T’Pring’s exit. She stares out on the rocks and the way the land turns a deeper red in the lowering light. This will be hers someday. The thought is daunting, increasingly so as she nears the eligible age to take the throne. She need not worry, however. Her father is likely to retain the throne for another thirty years at the least.

She returns to her bedchambers once the air outside has become too cold for her to stand. T’Sera and T’Pol are waiting already to aide her into her nightgown. She allows them to do so distractedly, every fiber of her being alight in anticipation for the pleasure slave to be sent to her.

“Would you like the human girl to be sent in now?” T’Sera asks.

Spock looks to her, slightly surprised, and nods. “Yes. And have some more casual clothes brought in for her.”

The two handmaidens curtsy and leave the room. Spock is alone and waiting.

The girl enters. 

Spock stares at her openly. She rakes her eyes over the girl. Her figure is what humans refer to as an “hourglass” with ample breasts and hips. Her eyes sparkle like jewels but are hardened when looking at Spock. 

Her crimson lips move gracefully as she speaks, “You desired to see me, your highness?”

She is bold, to speak before being spoken to, to look Spock directly in the eye. Were Spock in a different state of mind, she might have reprimanded her. “What is your name?”

The girl is taken aback by this question, it is clear. Many do not ask for their slave’s name. “Jamie. Jamie Kirk.”

“Jamie,” Spock says as she steps closer to the girl. She brushes a wisp of hair away from the girl’s face. “Jamie, you are to be mine. Only mine.”

Another clear display of surprise that is intensely _human_ from Jamie. “As you wish, your highness.” She waits in the room as Spock goes and sits at her writing desk. “What would you have me do?”

T’Sera enters then with a pile of clothing for Jamie. Spock points to where they have been laid on the bed. “Change into those.”

Jamie does not express her surprise. She goes to the bed and removes her clothes and changes into the new ones. She is clearly embarrassed by having to change in front of T’Sera. Spock finds it fascinating.

Jamie is dressed in a pair of black satin shorts and a matching tank top. “Am I dressed to your liking, your highness?”

“You may refer to me as Spock or My Lady.” Spock says coolly. “But only in private.”

She watches as Jamie files that information away. Even through the hardness in her eyes, Spock can see a glimmer of intelligence. She finds that she would like to explore that some day. 

Jamie stands in the room, posture perfect, looking like a ballerina about to begin a dance. Spock walks up to her and examines her lovely figure. “You are cold?”

Jamie looks down to wear her nipples are making clear imprints in the fabric. “No. I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“You’re the Grand Princess, heiress to the empire.” Jamie chuckles humorlessly. “Do you expect me to not be nervous?”

Spock arches an eyebrow. She wishes to reach out and touch the girl but holds her hands behind her back. She is not sure what the protocol here is. “Nerves are illogical.”

“I did not expect to be chosen by you.” Jamie says, clearly feeling once again bold. “I have heard what people have said about you. _Aduna T’Vulcan,_ the wife of Vulcan, the virgin princess. Hardly the type to employ a pleasure slave.”

“It is not true.” Spock says sharply.

Jamie smiles like she was waiting to get a response from Spock. “It isn’t? So the rumors about you and the Admiral are true?”

Spock bristles. This entrancing human is irritating, and yet Spock cannot entertain the idea of turning her away. “We indeed did have relations.”

Jamie inches closer so that their chests are nearly brushing. She looks like she wants to challenege her. “Did you ever kiss?”

“You are quite insolent.” Spock says calmly. Jamie does not back down. “We did kiss in the Vulcan manner.”

“But never in the human.” Jamie concludes with a growing smirk. “Have you ever been kissed like that?”

Spock can feel her leaning closer. Suddenly it is all that she desires to feel those painted lips against her own. Jamie raises a hand and rests it on Spock’s hip. 

Spock pulls back mere centimeters from her lips. “Prepare my bed for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jamie gapes at Spock. Her eyebrows knit together in the middle of her forehead. “I am not a chambermaid.”

“And yet you are capable of turning down a bed.” Spock says coolly, turning away from Jamie. “Do as I say. Then you may retire to your quarters.”

“Then I may…” Jamie trails off. She is angry, Spock does not need to look at her to know this. “I am a _pleasure slave._ One that you specifically requested.”

“When I require your services, I will call for you. You will be issued a communicator for this purpose.” Spock says coldly. She looks out the window while Jamie works.

The door closes behind Jamie and Spock releases a breath she had not realized she was holding. She turns toward the room, toward the bed that has been turned down perfectly. She walks to it and runs her hands over the embroidered fabric of the duvet. The fabric that seems to almost hold traces heat from Jamie’s hands. 

Spock jerks her hands away. It is illogical to think in such a way. She kneels beside her bed and pulls her meditation mat from beneath it. She kneels upon the soft fabric and rests her hands on her knees. “The mind controls the body; control the mind and the body will follow.” She recites from the writings of Surak.

She is supposed to be logical. She has dedicated her life to logic and wishes to bring it to her people when she is in power. She does not wish to give into animalistic urges such as so many of her companions have. She is logical.

But when Jamie’s hand touched her, she was suddenly overcome by the antithesis of everything which she sought to spread. A sudden urge to take the girl and claim her overcame Spock, unlike anything Spock had felt before. It was more than simple lust. It was a desire to _own._

Spock had no choice but to send the girl away. Now she is left to attempt to understand what it is that she felt.

It is likely only arousal that she was feeling when faced with the Jamie’s sexuality. It is her job to be this way. Yet Spock still cannot put away the feeling of jealousy toward any other who may have touched Jamie before her. She must restrain herself from calling the girl back. She must allow herself to rest and recover from the unexpected effects of her new slave. 

Spock spends the majority of the next day in her room in her dressing gown. She has T’Sera bring her meals in and commands that no one disturb her. She meditates and reads and is acutely aware of the fact that Jamie has been assigned quarters directly adjacent to her own, that she could be with the girl again in an incredibly short amount of time. She could have Jamie with her at every moment of the day if she so desires. 

She cannot deny that she desires it. Spock considers what T’Pring said yesterday about embracing her emotions. While Spock is disturbed by her animalistic feelings toward Jamie, perhaps she should give into the desire to be near her.

Spock taps a few buttons on her PADD, summoning the girl.

She waits.

If any other servant kept a member of the royal family waiting in such a way, they would be reprimanded and potentially relieved of their job, yet when Jamie arrives in Spock’s room and enters without knocking, she is nothing but relieved.

Irritation is coming off of Jamie in waves. “Do you need anything, My Lady?” 

“I wish you to be in the room.” Spock says simply. “You may read any book from my collection or use my computer terminal.”

“That’s all? This is highly irregular and frankly-”

“I would advise you not to be so impudent.” Spock cuts her off sharply, “It should be of no difference to you where you are allowed to enjoy some free time.”

This works to silence the girl, save for a mumbled. _“Free.”_

Spock begins working on her correspondence as Jamie wanders over to the bookshelf. Spock has a wide collection of paper and paper substitute volumes, a collection that is one of a kind to her and which likely would cost much of the wealth of some planets. 

“The Teachings of Surak?” Jamie asks suddenly. 

“Yes.” Spock says. “You are familiar with his philosophy?

 _“Logic is like an empty container: it can never be emptied and can never be filled. Infinitely deep, it is the source of all things.”_ Jamie recites in flawless Vulcan. “I studied his philosophy in high school. While I don’t understand everything he was saying with Katra, I still think your people should have listened when he spoke.”

“I agree.” Spock says with a tilted head. The more she knows of Jamie, the more fascinating she becomes.

Jamie looks to Spock like she does not quite believe what Spock is saying. _“You should not be a hypocrite, and you should not scandalize with your lips.”_ She quotes once again. “How can you claim to strive to follow the teachings of Surak and own pleasure slaves?”

“You are the first I have desired.” Spock says. She feels nearly humiliated by this human. She wishes nothing than to gain her approval. “Prior to this, I have never desired to own one.”

Jamie’s face colors slightly but she does not back down. “Am I supposed to be swayed by your false romanticism?”

“It is not false,” Spock insists. She rises from her seat and walks over to where Jamie is standing. “I find you enchanting.”

“You fetishize my blonde hair and blue eyes.” Jamie turns away from Spock. She folds her arms and walks away. Once she is across the room at the large bed, she turns to Spock once again. “And yet you won’t even touch me. What am I to be? Your arm candy? Something pretty to look at?”

Spock does not respond. The thought of keeping Jamie as something to be admired as belonging to Spock is tempting. 

“I am not an ornament. I have a brain.” Jamie says. She sits on the bed. “Let me do my job if you insist upon owning me.”

She is beautiful. Spock cannot deny this, and she cannot deny the urge to touch and learn. Spock strolls to the bed, attempting to appear less affected by the girl than she is. Spock places a hand on Jamie’s face and sits beside her. Jamie is, for the first time, speechless. Spock hears her breath hitch as Spock stares deeper into her eyes. 

Spock caresses her face and tries to control the pure unbridled desire that courses through her veins at this contact. “I find it difficult to control myself around you,” Spock admits.

“Forget control,” Jamie says, a challenge clear in her voice. Spock can feel the same tension that was present last night, yet this time Spock is determined to follow it through.

Spock leans in and presses her lips to Jamie’s. It is a wholly unfamiliar feeling. While she has experience kissing in the Vulcan manner with the Admiral, but never have her lips touched another’s in such a manner. 

Jamie, on the other hand, is clearly skilled in the area. She gains control of the kiss instantly and moves against Spock in a way that sets her nerves aflame. Jamie bites down on Spock’s bottom lip, causing her to gasp. When her mouth is open, Jamie snakes her tongue inside. Spock can only hope to be moving in a way that is as pleasurable to Jamie as it is to her. 

Jamie pulls away, clearly out of breath. Her cheeks are colored a beautiful rose and her pupils are blown wide. “You sure you’ve never done this before?” 

Spock shakes her head. “I have never.”

“Shit, you’re a natural.” Jamie leans forward to kiss Spock again but is met with a hand on her chest. “What’s wrong?”

Spock for a moment is at a loss for what to say. She wrenches her eyes away from Jamie’s face and regains her words. “You do not trust me.”

Jamie’s eyes widen and she backs up just out of reach of Spock. “Shit, were you using your telepathy?”

Spock arches an eyebrow at Jamie. “I am a touch telepath. I cannot help but feel what you feel on some level.”

“Well what do you expect? Do you honestly expect me to trust you?” Jamie demands. “You _own_ me, Spock. I am here because I have to be. I did not choose you.”

“And yet you desire me.” 

Clearly perturbed, Jamie stands from the bed. She fiddles with the end of her braid. “May I be dismissed?” She says with false confidence. “I need some…time to myself.” 

 

Spock sees Jamie in passing, often. The whip of a long blond ponytail around a corner is often the only hint she has to the other woman’s existence. Spock wants to chase her.

They are in the kitchen at the same time, on one memorable occasion. Jamie is eating her lunch and Spock comes in to verify the menu for the banquet being held the following day. Spock stares openly at her eating her sandwich.

Jamie locks eyes with Spock, as though daring the princess to approach her and start a conversation. Spock bites her tongue. She stares back at Jamie. She will not have the power taken from her by this girl. Spock is in control of her own actions.

For whatever reason, her inaction irritates Jamie, whose expression morphs into one of distinct displeasure.

She storms out of the kitchen without a word.

 

When Spock next calls for Jamie, she does not answer. Spock calls for her once more and receives no answer. Something is wrong, she can tell.

It is nearly unheard of for the Grand Princess to personally visit the quarters of a servant. Yet as Spock knocks on the door of Jamie’s chambers, no one gives her an odd look. Perhaps it is because of fear or respect.

The is no answer to the door. Spock enters her override code and lets herself into the room. It is empty, the bed perfectly made. For some reason, it is surprising to Spock that Jamie has no personal items. Many of her servants have photographs of her families in their quarters, as well as other trinkets.

Spock remembers then that Jamie is not a servant, she is a prisoner forced into servitude. 

The absence of the girl is alarming. Spock goes to the computer console in the room and seeks for her in the castle. There is no trace.

Foolish girl. Spock dashes from the room, overcome with worry about Jamie. She does not heed the surprised expressions she receives from the staff as she moves quickly through the halls.

It is likely quite illogical for Spock to have her own hovercar as she rarely drives, yet in this case she is unspeakably grateful for the lavish lifestyle she has been born into.

The canyon is extremely dangerous, even to Vulcans who have a far higher tolerance to the intense sun and heat. Vulcan is unforgiving in its landscape and native fauna, and Jamie will likely not survive if Spock does not find her quickly.

She arrives just in time. A Le-Matya is sniffing a fallen figure just ahead of Spock’s car. She revs the engine for the noise. It works, startling the large animal into running away.

Never has such panic overruled Spock’s action. Never has she felt such an urgent need to get somewhere and protect. Spock kneels beside the form. It is Jamie, fallen from the heat.

There is a long scratch along her forearm which Spock suspects must be from the Le-Matya. She does not have much time. Spock scoops the girl up in her arms with ease and rushes her to the car. She ensures that Jamie is buckled in and safe before racing back toward the palace.

She holds Jamie in her arms as she rushes to the medical wing of the palace, cursing the size of the place. Once she arrives, she stops. She is suddenly unsure of what to do.

Luckily, her status as the princess means that there is a doctor by her side immediately. “Your highness.”

“She has been scratched by a Le-Matya and requires medical attention.” Spock says to the woman with a messy bun and what seems to be a perpetually stubborn look on her face. 

“Good God,” the doctor says, “Chapel, get this girl on a bed.”

Once Jamie has been taken from her, Spock suddenly feels out of place. There is no reason for her to remain in the medical wing and it certainly would be improper for her to be seen by the bedside of a pleasure slave who attempted escape. She casts a last glance at Jamie’s prone form and leaves without a word.

When she receives notice an hour later that Jamie will survive, it can only be described as relief.


	3. Chapter 3

There are many aromatic flowers native to Vulcan which Spock enjoys, but earth Lavender is by far her favorite flower. Perhaps it is her human genetics or some predisposition to the scent, but she has always felt drawn to the aroma. 

Spock sinks down into her scalding hot bath and breathes in the scent of the Lavender bath oils which she so enjoys. Others, such as T’Pring, prefer bubbles in their baths, an indulgence picked up from Earth culture, but Spock prefers to leave the water clear. 

She watches as steam rises off of the top of the water and disappears into the air, creating a humidity that is rare on Vulcan. Her hair is tied up into a bun to avoid getting it wet and her piercings have been removed, a rare sight for the princess. Hardly anyone outside of her handmaidens will ever see her without her many ear decorations and nose and lip piercings. It is unusual to see any member of the royal family so unadorned.

She skims her hands across the top of the water and turns them over. Her fingertips are on the brink of becoming pruned.

She stands and leaves her bath, grabbing the plush robe beside the tub and pulling it around herself. She presses the button on the wall to summon her handmaidens and enters her bedchambers.

It is not who she expected to be standing in there waiting to help her dress.

“T’Sera and T’Pol are both busy right now,” Jamie explains. She is dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and black sweatpants, clearly unprepared to be called to do a task.

Spock cannot move. She has not seen the girl in a week and is astounded by her beauty once more. Part of her wonders if she will ever grow used to it. “Very well,” she says, and drops her bathrobe to the floor. 

This time it is Jamie’s turn to falter as she approaches Spock with a soft red towel. Her hands are unsteady as she runs the fabric over Spock’s body, drying her slowly. She does not touch Spock with a bare hand, and Spock can tell that it is intentional. 

Once dried, Jamie picks up the first part of Spock’s outfit. It is a two piece ensemble, the first being a long skirt which rests at her hips and has silver embroidery on the front just beneath her navel. Jamie helps her to step into it and adjusts it so that it rests on her hips correctly.

The second piece is one that Spock knows Jamie will not be able to avoid skin to skin contact when helping Spock into it, and her being buzzes with anticipation. There is something about Jamie that makes Spock need her, need to hear her voice and need to be touched by her. 

It is the furthest thing from logical in the universe.

Jamie helps guide Spock’s arms into the wrap top, a cropped shirt so that her navel and toned abdominal muscles are visible. Jamie wraps the fabric around Spock’s body and when she is fastening it into place, she brushes Spock’s skin.

It is _electric._ Spock feels a burst of lust and uncertainty from the other woman and it is addictive. Spock wants to come back for more and more of this time and time again.

“Spock.” Jamie says softly. She does not finish her statement, but her name like a warning hangs in the air.

Jamie goes to retrieve Spock’s hairbrush. Spock follows.

She closes in on her and brushes her fingers against the back of Jamie’s hand. Jamie breathes in sharply and grips the handle of the brush, clearly ready to attack if needed. Spock presses a kiss to the juncture between Jamie’s neck and shoulder, eliciting another gasp from the girl.

“Your highness, you have just gotten dressed.” Jamie says unsurely, like she cannot believe that this is happening.

Spock turns Jamie around and tilts her head up with a finger under her chin. “I desire you.” She says. “Do you desire me?”

She looks as though she might argue the opposite, but Jamie suddenly melts as though all of the tension in her body has been released. “Yes.”

Spock cups Jamie’s face in her hands and kisses her deeply. Jamie moans appreciatively and grips at Spock’s shoulders. Spock responds by tracing her hands down the girl’s back and over her buttocks to lift her by her thighs. Jamie makes a surprised noise as she is carried over to the bed.

Spock throws her down unceremoniously and relishes in the way Jamie manages to look completely debauched even completely clothed, sprawled on the bed with her exotic blonde locks spread around her head. Her lips are kiss-swollen pink and Spock can only think of all the other ways in which she would like to mar this perfect skin.

Jamie pants as Spock’s hands grip her hipbones. “Wow, for someone so inexperienced, you’re pretty good at this.”

Spock climbs atop Jamie, her skirt bunching up around her thighs as she straddles the girl. She leans down to whisper in her ear, “I said that I had never kissed in the human manner, not that I was virginal.”

The sound that Jamie responds with can only be described as a growl. Spock captures the sound with a kiss as she undulates atop _her_ Jamie, the girl who she lusts for so desperately, who she must hold in her hands. 

Someone knocks on the door. Spock ignores it and continues biting along Jamie’s collarbone. The feeling of lust caused by proximity to Jamie is heady and entirely distracting.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Jamie asks. 

“If it is an emergency, I will know.” Spock sucks a mark into Jamie’s neck, which seems to be quite effective in silencing the girl’s thoughts of visitors.

The knocking persists. Spock sits up and glares toward the door. “What is it that you require?”

“You are needed in the King’s chambers.” The voice on the other side of the door sounds urgent enough to get Spock’s attention.

“I will be there shortly.” She climbs off of Jamie and goes to her glass, releasing her hair from the pins and allowing her hair to tumble down to her waist. She brushes it quickly and turns upon hearing a chuck from the bed. 

“So you can brush your hair yourself.”

“Of course I can.”

“And yet you require others to do it for you,” Jamie counters, “Not very logical, is it?”

Spock glares at the girl and remembers why it is that she struggles with this slave. She is headstrong and insolent. She is everything that Spock strives to avoid in her life. And yet, she cannot seem to keep herself away from this strange creature. “You are to be here when I return.” Spock instructs before leaving the room.

 

“Your father has had a mild cardiac episode.” Spock is greeted by a human doctor upon entering her father’s bedchambers. The woman appears to be angry as she ushers Spock into the room and closes the door. “He will recover but he needs bed rest. Your mother will be watching over him while he rests.”

Spock is surprised to hear the word ‘mother’ in relation to Amanda, as it is rarely used, even by herself. “Who are you?”

“Lenore McCoy, new head physician for the royal family.” The woman states shortly. “Which is why I know all about y’all’s dirty little secret. And if you’ve forgotten, we’ve met before. I’m the one who saved Jamie Kirk.”

The images of that terrible day flash through Spock’s mind, as well as the way the doctor reacted so quickly to the injury. “And your temperament does not affect your work, Doctor McCoy?” Spock questions with a raised eyebrow. 

Amanda huffs from her seat by Sarek’s bedside. “Spock. Be nice to the doctor.”

“I am merely attempting to assess if she is a suitable caretaker for my father, the Emperor. His health is of utmost importance.” Spock states coolly, never taking her eyes off of McCoy. “She seems…rash. I will have her records and background reviewed.”

“Damnit, woman, your father just went through a life-threatening experience. Don’t you want to ask him how he feels?” The doctor seems to be enraged by Spock’s calm demeanor, and Spock is unsure of what to make of it. She is unsure of whether she is comfortable entrusting her father’s care to this woman.

Spock goes to her father’s bedside. “Father, how do you feel?” She asks mostly to spite the doctor. Spock can surmise that her father is feeling unwell from the fact that he suffered a cardiac episode. 

Sarek offers a small smile and nods graciously toward the doctor. “Doctor McCoy has done a fine job of making me feel comfortable while I recover.”

“How long will your recovery take?” Spock asks. 

“Likely a week.” Sarek turns to smile at Amanda. “A week which I intend to spend with my beloved.”

Spock spares them a small smile at their shared affection before returning to the task at hand. “And matters of the Empire which require your guidance?”

Sarek shifts in the bed and nods toward his daughter. “I trust your capability to handle any problems which might arise.”

Spock takes half of a step back. “Are you quite certain?”

“The empire will be yours one day, my daughter. You have been well trained for this duty from a young age. I am confident in your abilities.”

Spock inclines her head in a shallow bow. “Thank you, my lord. I hope to live up to your expectations.”

“I have no doubts.” 

 

When Spock returns to her quarters hours later after briefings and preparations for her new duties, she is exhausted. She wants nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep for as long as she will be allowed.

The events of the day were so hectic, that Spock had forgotten that she told Jamie to stay. When she walks into her quarters and finds her lounging on the bed, reading, Spock is overcome with calm. “Jamie.”

“You look terrible,” Jamie says as she closes her book and gets off of the bed. She takes Spock to the bed and helps her strip down to her undergarments. “Lay down on your stomach.”

Spock does as she says. “What do you intend to do?”

“Despite the fact that you haven’t really used me to my full potential, I am a pleasure slave,” Jamie speaks. She climbs on the bed and sits on Spock’s thighs. “Relieving tension is my job description.”

Spock makes a noise of protest. “I do not wish to engage in sexual acts at this time.”

Jamie lets out a soft giggle. “That’s not what I had in mind. There are many ways to release tension besides sex.”

Before Spock can ask, her question is answered by Jamie pressing warm hands to her back and rubbing firmly. Spock lets out an involuntary (and embarrassing) groan of relief. She can feel the self-satisfaction rolling off of Jamie in waves. 

She is touching Spock with bare hands willingly. It was her idea. Spock shields her mind to be polite to her sensibilities. Still, the concern is detectible. “You do not need to be concerned for me.”

“You left for hours and came back looking wrung out and stressed. Well, by your standards, at least.” Jamie protests. “I have every right to be concerned.”

Spock wants to ask _why_ Jamie would even think to be concerned about her wellbeing in the first place. She bites her tongue to keep from making that likely perilous inquiry. “My father suffered from a cardiac episode.” It makes no sense to entrust Jamie with her worries, and yet she feels as though she must. 

“Shit, is he alright?”

“He will make a full recovery in a week,” Spock says on an exhale as Jamie rubs at a particularly tight knot. “Until them, I am to tend to his duties.”

Jamie’s movements hitch for a fraction of a second. “So you’re Empress now?”

“I will be temporarily fulfilling the duties, yes.”

“How old are you?” Jamie asks suddenly. “I know it’s stupid of me not to know but you don’t seem…old enough to be empress.”

Spock sighs and shakes her head minutely. “I am twenty-two standard years of age.”

“Holy shit.”

“I wish to rest now,” Spock says, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. 

Jamie moves off of her thighs and off of the bed. “Of course. I’ll see you…whenever you call me next.”

Spock arches an eyebrow at her and gestures to her to come back. “I wish you to stay, if that is amenable to you.”

Jamie sighs and a soft smile dances across her lips. “Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Spock awakens, she is _warm._ Jamie’s body gives off a considerable amount of heat from where she is holding Spock, but Spock is more overcome by the warmth of her mind pressing against her own. It is the deepest Spock has ever felt touched by another without a meld, a closeness that seems as though it should be impossible.

Yet despite this slightly disturbing thought, Spock wishes to bask in the warmth like a Le-Matya in the sun. 

Jamie’s arms shift around Spock, and Spock can feel her consciousness awakening. It presses against hers like a cat winding around one’s ankles. Spock slits her eyes open to find that Jamie’s are already wide open. 

“Good morning.” Jamie whispers. Spock does not understand the feelings she is feeling from the human. 

“Good morning.”

Jamie smiles and her emotions become even more indecipherable. “I am the bed warmer of the Empress,” she says with a smirk, “My mother would be so proud.”

“It is a temporary situation, and I am retaining the title of Grand Princess,” Spock says. She has the strong urge to roll her eyes.

Jamie grips her shoulders and rolls Spock onto her back so that she can straddle the other woman. “Well, how about I help you start your day in a more…relaxing way? And I’m not talking about a massage this time.”

Spock hardly has time to process what is about to happen before Jamie has attached her mouth to Spock’s collar bone and is rolling her hips in a most pleasing manner. Spock bucks her hips up, searching for friction wherever she can get it. Jamie reacts by slipping her thigh between Spock’s legs.

Jamie captures Spock’s lips in a deep kiss at the same moment as she trails a hand down to slip inside of her underwear and caress her folds. She dips a fingertip into Spock’s core, causing her to gasp and seek more. 

“You’re so wet.” Jamie whispers into her ear, punctuating it with a nip to the tip. “You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever been with.”

Spock keens with pleasure and feels her body flush with heat at the praise. Jamie continues to rub at her and Spock can feel herself building toward orgasm alarmingly quickly

“Jamie,” she says desperately, like a warning and a plea. 

Jamie shushes her with a grin and rubs more furiously at her clit with her thumb, two fingers pistoning in and out of her. “Come on, Spock. Let go.”

Spock does that, coming with a shaking body and a gasps. She bites Jamie’s shoulder and lets the aftershocks wash over her. She clings to Jamie.

“Shit, that was intense.” Jamie says with a slight laugh. She crawls out of bed and walks to the bathroom. When she returns, it is with a damp washcloth. She wipes the moistness off of Spock and settles beside her in the bed. 

Spock relishes in the warmth of the other. She rolls to embrace Jamie, holds her close to her chest as though to protect her. 

 

Jamie is like a drug. The more Spock has of her, the more she needs. It is not logical for her to call Jamie into her office after a meeting and take her on the desk, but it is what Spock chooses to do.

Jamie moans while Spock laps at her core and knocks a paper off of the desk. “Shit, how’d you get so good at this?”

Similarly, it is not becoming of a princess and acting empress to feel the need to be constantly touching her pleasure slave whenever they are near, and yet Spock cannot seem to keep her hands off of the girl. Whether it is a hand on the small of her back or fingers brushed together, Spock has the overwhelming need to touch and be touched by Jamie Kirk.

If any member of the royal household notices the Grand Princess’s strange behavior, none of them mention it. They turn a blind eye when they see Spock and Jamie walking the halls or when Jamie is summoned to Spock’s quarters yet again.

One particularly memorable afternoon, Spock learns the true prowess of a mouth for pleasure. Human kissing was one thing that she found to be new, but the way Jamie’s mouth moves on her from her spot beneath Spock’s desk is entirely different.

Jamie licks up her core, flicking her tongue over Spock’s clitoris. She grins up at the princess when Spock lets out a small whine from the back of her throat. The sounds that Jamie manages to evoke from Spock seem hardly voluntary.

Jamie wraps her lips around Spock’s clit and sucks hard, causing Spock to let loose and buck up into her mouth, seeking more. More suction, more warmth, _more Jamie._

Jamie responds enthusiastically, just as she always does. She may seem cool and aloof at other times, but when engaged in coitus, she is enthusiastic and happy. Spock suspects it is a mode of control for the girl.

When Spock comes with a hoarse shout, Jamie does not stop licking and sucking at her folds. She continues despite Spock’s groaning until yet another orgasm has been wrung out of the princess, at which point she is pushed away.

Spock pushes her skirt back down as Jamie rocks back on her heels and wipes her mouth. “See what I mean? The mouth is a _wonderful_ thing.”

Spock is actively lusting after Jamie, every fiber of her being lusting after her and seeking more. Her mind wishes to be touched by Jamie’s always. Being parted from her causes pain to Spock which she can hardly explain.

There is a distinct part of her which is very much aware of what is happening

 

Spock is meditating while Jamie naps on the bed. The puffs of air that the girl emits regularly does not distract Spock, as most such noises during her meditation would. Much to her surprise, the sounds of Jamie’s sleep helps Spock to focus on meditation. Likely because the subject of much of Spock’s recent meditation is the slave in question.

A soft knock raps on the door and Spock’s eyes fly open. Jamie stirs slightly on the bed and Spock becomes irrationally worried that perhaps the girl will be awakened by the visitor. The urge to protect courses violently through Spock.

The knock sounds again, and this time Spock is able to identify exactly who it is. A woman who in all honesty need never knock or ask permission to enter Spock’s bedchambers, yet does so due to defined roles and power. 

Amanda Grayson.

“You may enter,” Spock says as she rises from her mat and stores it beneath her bed. Jamie stirs once more, but does not awaken. Spock clenches her fists to keep herself from reaching out and touching. Always wanting to touch. 

Amanda enters with her usual grace. Her preferred headscarves adorn her head and a smile graces her face. Spock is filled with warmth and peace through their familial bond. Amanda spares a look to Jamie curled up on Spock’s bed. “Spock, hello.”

“Mother.” Spock inclines her head and gestures toward the comfortable arm chairs in her room. “Please sit. I will call for tea.”

Jamie shifts again. There is no doubt in Spock’s mind that the girl is awake now and simply maintaining the image to give them some form of privacy. Spock could say something and ask her to leave the room, likely should to keep the secret of her parentage, but finds that she does not wish to. She does not fear what Jamie might do with the information.

“Spock, your father’s recovery might take a tad longer than we expected,” Amanda starts. She is clearly chagrined. “He simply has not regained his strength and returning him to such stress before he’s ready could be very bad. I’m so sorry.”

“There is no reason to apologize.” Spock gestures to the servant who has just entered with the tea. “It is my duty.”

Amanda’s face shifts to one of sadness. “You’re so young, Spock.”

“I have been well trained, do not doubt my abilities.”

“No, of course not.” Amanda chuckles under her breath. “I just wish you had the ability to be young, and not a future Empress at every moment of your life.”

Spock glances to Jamie on the bed. “There are others who have faced much worse.”

 

Spock sits at her desk with her copy of “The Teachings of Surak” in front of her. She studies it’s contents and frowns. _You should not give authority over your katra to anyone, lest they obtain your strength, and then you would be confounded._

What does it mean to have given her katra over to someone? Spock ponders on this. If it were to mean that she should not let any one person guide her actions and cause her to act illogically, she is certainly in danger. Just this week she has moved her schedule around to accommodate more time for Jamie. More connection with Jamie. More pleasure from Jamie.

 _Jamie._ At the root of all of Spock’s discomfort and uncharacteristic behavior lately, there is this girl. This girl who smiles at Spock and laughs as brightly as the Vulcan sun, with hand and mind just as warm. This pleasure slave who has made a place in a life which was not looking for something to fill any void.

Spock should take care. If she strives to continue to follow the teachings of Surak, she cannot allow her katra to be taken over by a human girl who most certainly does not care about Spock or her desires.

As though sensing that Spock was thinking of her, Jamie enters the room just then. She does not knock, does not bow, does not announce her arrival in any way aside from the loud way she opens the door. “Reading Surak again?”

Spock looks to her. She is eating an apple and sitting cross legged in one of the arm chairs. “Yes, I am considering how decreasing Vulcan’s military force might better influence our culture to be more aligned with Surak’s ideal culture.”

It is only partially a lie. That is what she was considering before her thoughts were pulled toward a certain blonde.

“Well, that, and reducing the centrality of your government.” Jamie says thoughtfully, “Surak’s teachings are about self control and self governance. You have such a strong government right now that it’s impossible to make choices for yourself in the way that he intended.”

“My thoughts precisely.” 

 

“What was your crime?”

Jamie is visibly taken aback by this question. They are laying in bed together with their legs tangled after some very _athletic_ sex, and Spock can no longer hold back her curiosity.

Jamie does not answer, so Spock presses once more, “For what cause were you made to serve?”

Jamie rolls away so that they are no longer touching. She sighs up at the ceiling and throws an arm over her eyes. “I broke into an armory,” she mumbles, “Stole weapons for separatist group when I was fifteen.”

“Were you successful?” 

Jamie turns her head to lock eyes with Spock. She is clearly conflicted. “Yes. But they caught up with me two months later.”

Spock stares at the girl, at her face which suddenly looks so young. Then something clicks. “The sentencing of a minor to be a pleasure slave is illegal.”

Jamie smiles slightly and nods. “I know. I was a house servant. When I turned eighteen, I decided I wanted more control in my life and since rape and abuse of pleasure slaves is illegal, I chose to be this.” She stares back up at the ceiling, silent, as though waiting for Spock to react.

“Do you wish to be free?”

“Of course. Every day I think about what might have happened if I had just walked away from that group, but I don’t regret it,” Jamie says resolutely, “I believe in what I did, even if it will keep me from ever applying to the VSA like I’d hoped, even if it means not seeing my mother.”

Spock contemplates this, lets it roll around her mind like she is tasting wine.

“Why’d you save me?” Jamie whispers, cutting through the silence like a knife. “I know it was you. I could feel it, somehow.”

“You would have died had I not taken action.”

“But why did you do it?” Jamie insists. “If I had died, you could find another pleasure slave like me. I’m not special.”

Spock pauses, listening to the way their breaths sync up. She inches her hand toward Jamie. “The emotions I feel in relation to you run far deeper than I understand.”

Jamie is silent.

 

Spock is sitting her father’s office, which has been transformed into her own for the time being, as her father’s recovery seems to stretch on. They have past the week limit which he promised and Spock can feel herself growing thin. She now understands why former rulers always seemed to age so much more rapidly than the typical Vulcan. 

She has finally escaped from a five-hour long meeting with Andorian representatives and leans back in her chair. She enjoys the work, as exhausting as it can be at times. This is what she has been training for all of her life, what she was born for.

And yet she feels…unsettled. Spock feels as though there is something that she is missing, some key ingredient to her success that she has yet ignored. 

She awakens her computer terminal. Hardly any thought goes into her actions before she realizes what exactly she has pulled up on the screen: the records of Jamie Theodosia Kirk.

The more Spock reads, the more entranced she becomes. Much like that afternoon in the Grand Parlor, Spock finds that she cannot take her eyes off of the details of the girl. Jamie kirk is…

Extraordinary.

Graduated from preparatory school at age fourteen at the top of her class, top scores on her aptitude tests, and an actual submitted application to the Vulcan Science Academy that would have been accepted were it not for her run in with the law. And beyond that, she comes from a highly respected family on Earth for their contributions to space travel research.

For all intents and purposes, Jamie seems to be the type of person who would not get involved in a separatist group and commit major crimes. She was a model citizen, clearly on the track to be something greater than her current position.

Spock wishes to change the system which her people built, but has always felt held back by her birth and duties. Jamie Kirk is clearly unencumbered by expectations and does whatever she wishes, never accepting any limitations, even in her own captivity.

Spock feels the near constant desire to be near her.

As if on cue, the doors to Spock’s office open and Jamie strolls in, carrying a plate covered by a cloche. “I thought you might be hungry.”

She places the dish in front of Spock and uncovers it. It is a bowl of wild mushroom soup that Jamie must know Spock prefers. “Dinner is served.”

While Spock eats, Jamie retreats to the couch on the other side of the office, stretching out and laying along its length in a position with cannot be entirely comfortable but which is immensely attractive. Particularly when she is wearing a combination of cropped leggings and a ballerina wrap top that shows off the entirety of her abdomen.

Spock attempts to appear as though she is not staring blatantly at her and her provocative pose while she eats and pretends to continue work on things that she was not doing to begin with.

“Oh my Gods, will you stop eating and reading?” Jamie exclaims finally. She rolls gracefully off the couch onto her feet. She speaks emphatically as she approaches Spock’s desk. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for the last ten minutes. It’s been hurting my back.” 

“I did not request your seduction.” Spock says flatly, unsure how to react to this. 

Jamie huffs and sits on the desk, slouching over. “Well, you’re usually stressed after meetings like that and _need_ it, so I thought I’d head you off before you randomly yank me from whatever I’m doing.”

Spock watches as the girl does a double take upon glancing benignly at the computer terminal. She jumps off of the desk and backs off, pointing accusingly at the screen. “Is that my _file?”_

This reaction to Spock’s research is unexpected, to say the least. “I was curious as to your past.”

“Then ask me!” Jamie exclaims. This time, even she seems taken aback by her outburst. She closes her eyes and takes three breaths before slitting them open again. “I’m sorry. You have every right to do that. I am your property, after all.”

Jamie stands straight and tall, hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes have taken on the state that Spock has not seen in quite some time. The same cold lifeless expression they held the first time Spock saw her. It sends a chill through Spock.

“Jamie, I did not intend to cross any boundaries,” Spock says in what she hopes is a placating tone. “Please, do not be angry.”

Jamie looks just to the left of Spock’s head. “No boundaries were crossed. I’m not angry.” She shifts her weight from one foot to another and glances toward the door like an animal seeking an escape route. “If you will excuse me, I must attend to some personal business.”

Spock opens her mouth and snaps it shut. “Please, do not be angry.”

“Am I excused?” Jamie says sharply. 

“Your records reveal what a remarkable person person you are.”

“And they reveal that I will never be that person again,” Jamie snaps back, the _because of you_ goes unsaid. “Now, _am I excused?”_

Spock sighs slightly in defeat, “Yes. You are excused for the night.”

Jamie has been sleeping in Spock’s bed for the past week and a half (and referring to herself as a bed warmer the entire time). Spock expects that she will be sleeping in a much colder bed tonight. 

And yet, when she returns to her chambers, there is a blonde head upon the pillow.

 

“Are you enjoying your gift?” T’Pring says with a smirk. She has returned to the palace for the private celebration of the Emperor’s recovery. It has been nearly three weeks since his actual return to power, and much of the Empire was unaware of his indisposed state, yet the Vulcan high court has come together to celebrate his health.

Spock at first does not know what her friend is talking about. She does not recall being given any object. Nothing new has come to her from T’Pring except…

Jamie. To talk about her as if she is an object makes Spock supremely uncomfortable. “I have enjoyed her.”

“And yet I sense that something is less than desirable about the situation.” T’Pring says, a graceful eyebrow lifted as if to ask what could possibly be wrong with what she has given the Grand Princess.

“She is unhappy.”

T’Pring laughs, a tinkling of bells that spills forward like a waterfall. A truly regal expression of humor that was likely trained into her. “Do you expect her to be? She is a prisoner.”

Spock stares down at her own clasped hands. Hands that have touched Jamie’s, which in turn send flames through Spock. “It is illogical to keep slaves. Every life deserves freedom. Especially with a mind such as Jamie’s.”

“A mind which aided in crimes against the empire,” T’Pring argues. “Free, she is a danger to our very way of life.”

“You know that I do not believe our way of life to be the most desirable one.”

T’Pring’s lips press together tightly. “No, you prefer the religious hereticism of the Syrranites. And yet you have done nothing to use your power to impress their beliefs upon our society, which leads one to believe that you are not entirely convinced of their way.” Her tongue is sharp though her face remains cool.

Were Spock one for using her title imperiously, she might have T’Pring removed from her sight for her candid language. She might have her removed from the palace completely. Yet Spock can only stare at the woman who she calls friend. “I dare not enact any change while I yet do not have the throne.”

“Your ownership of a pleasure slave is merely a show, then? It is to keep up the appearance of being one of the people?” T’Pring clearly knows that she has the upper hand in this argument, that all of Spock’s talk of beliefs cannot outweigh her actions. 

 

Jamie comes into Spock’s room, clearly flustered and upset. She holds up her padd. “Spock, am I accompanying you on a trip?”

“No, you are-“

“Cuz if it’s to Iowa, I can’t go,” Jamie says, not listening to what Spock is saying, “I mean, I _can_ but I won’t. I can’t risk someone seeing me like this. As this person I’ve become.” She gestures to her person.

Spock arches an eyebrow. “Are you finished.” Jamie responds with silence, so Spock continues, “We are not going on a trip.”

“Then why did I get an itinerary saying that I’m to board a shuttle tomorrow going to Iowa?”

“We are not going on a trip,” Spock reiterates, “You are. You are freed. I took the liberty of booking private transportation to your family’s home in Iowa. If there is somewhere else you wish to go, arrangements will be made. You may also remain in the palace for as long as you wish.”

Jamie’s mouth falls open and she covers it with her hands. “Don’t fuck around with me, Spock.”

“I am not. You are freed and your criminal record has been cleared, so that you will not be barred from anything.”

Behind her hands, Jamie is clearly grinning. She starts laughing despite herself. “Holy shit, seriously? Why? Cleared? How can I ever thank you?”

Spock chooses to respond to the final question. “No thanks are necessary. It was my pleasure to do so.”

Jamie marches up to Spock and wraps her arms around her neck, smashing their lips together. It is nothing like the kiss of a pleasure slave. It is hard and fast and full of overflowing gratefulness.

Spock wonders if she is imagining the affection there.

Before she can say anything to question it, Jamie is dashing out of the room babbling about preparing to depart.

Spock wishes to call Jamie into her room many times during that evening. She wishes to have her with her and to touch her. But it is no longer her right, she no longer has any authority to sate the near constant hunger that she feels. Never again will she have that authority.

Despite her longing, she is happy. Her decision to ask her father to pardon Jamie is one that she cannot regret. This young woman, of only nineteen, deserves freedom. The Empire deserves to have her mind working for it and Spock wishes only for her potential to be recognized. Her hunger is nothing compared to the freedom of a being who is worth much more than her own pleasure.

Jamie comes in after midnight. Spock is well on her way to a restless sleep when a body slips into the bed beside her. She does not need to roll over to know who it is. Jamie’s very presence fills Spock’s mind with warmth. 

Jamie presses herself along Spock’s bed. “I thought I’d do this one last time, for old time’s sakes,” she whispers into Spock’s ear. Jamie’s arm drapes over Spock’s body, her hand coming to rest against the princess’s. “I will miss you.”

Jamie disappears in the early hours of the morning before Spock awakens. The bed is cold in her absence and Spock wakes up and knows immediately that Jamie is not simply in the other room.

She is far from the palace, traveling through the stars toward a future that does not include Spock or any member of the Vulcan royal family.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a photoset made by the lovely thesoundandfury on tumblr!
> 
> Feedback appreciated!  
> tumblr: fabtrek


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